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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24838885">i finally understand (this feeling might kill me)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethchildz/pseuds/bethchildz'>bethchildz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dead To Me (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Post-Season/Series 02, jen is high on painkillers and having realisations, they are soulmates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:33:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24838885</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethchildz/pseuds/bethchildz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the hospital after the car crash, Jen ponders her feelings for Judy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Judy Hale/Jen Harding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>115</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i finally understand (this feeling might kill me)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have no idea what this is but I wrote it last night at 1am and figured I should post it anyway. I am janeslily on tumblr if anyone wants to send me inspiration for Jen/Judy fics.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jen had always felt as though her life was one small step away from spinning entirely out of control. Before she met Ted, she dealt with her mother’s death by ignoring her grief altogether; she threw herself into dancing, rehearsing until her body ached and she knew she would be able to feel it in her muscles for days to come. It worked, and sometimes the pain in her legs distracted her from the throbbing in her head, and the dull emptiness that seemed to permanently reside inside her chest.</p><p>She tried not to question it too much when Ted willingly let her give up dancing for him. She started dealing with her grief, instead, by drinking a little too much; a couple glasses of wine on an evening soon turned into a whole bottle, and Ted was far too busy with his wannabe rockstar bullshit, he barely even noticed his own wife disintegrating with a loss that had lasted decades, and soon the resentment that came with losing a part of her own body (and how disgusting she felt, when he wouldn’t touch her, as though she was broken, as though she was no longer a woman worthy of being desired).</p><p>Really, his death was only the fuel to the already raging fire that threatened to torch everything in sight. She’d wanted to blame the person responsible; she’d wanted to blame this anger inside of her on the loss of her husband, the fact her children no longer had a father, but deep in a part of herself she never wanted to reach the surface, Jen knew it was something closer to the fact her marriage hadn’t been stable for years, and how much easier it was to turn a blind eye to the fact she may have never been in love in the first place.</p><p>And throughout it all, with each loss and hurdle she had to jump through, after each lonely night sitting beside a husband she barely knew anymore, after every evening spent screaming along to a heavy metal song that blasted on her car speakers, she never could have predicted the route her life would take. She never could have predicted Judy.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>There was a magnetism that pulled Jen to Judy immediately. It was almost embarrassing, how instinctively Jen would reach out to her, holding her hand between hers or rubbing her arm just to feel the heat of her skin against her palms. Jen had never felt so drawn to touch someone, to feel the intimacy of her body pressed against someone else’s – an almost stranger – but it was one thing she would not deny herself, as though it was physically impossible to stay away. </p><p>It was some sick twist of fate that brought them together like this. When the truth came out, Jen felt a heartbreak and a betrayal so heavy she felt her entire world shift off balance. But it <em> was </em> fate, in the end, as if Jen’s universe was supposed to blow up the way it did, as though a man was supposed to die face down in the pool in her backyard with blunt-force trauma to the head. It all amounted to this moment: the crash of a car (and how ironic, that this whole disaster had started with a hit-and-run), a rush of pain in the side of Jen’s own head as she was pulled with the force of it, and Judy’s voice soft and afraid, calling her name.</p><p>It was all she could think about in the hospital bed immediately afterwards, through the haze of drugs and drifting in and out of consciousness, this turn her life had taken. She watched her life pan out in front of her: the birth of her children, the loss of her mother, all of the fights she had with Ted (she had hit him, and God she had felt guilty for that. She’d hit him and Judy had hit him and now she was hit, too). It was as though everything sped up, every nerve end lighting on fire as she played through the painful memories on a loop. She thought of every time she fucked up, every mistake she had made as a mother, as a wife, as a daughter.</p><p>But there was one thing that managed to make the throb in her drug-infused head abate for just a moment. It always came down to it, through it all, it always came back to her. She thought of Judy, amidst all the chaos, a balm to the never ending headache that seemed to follow Jen wherever she went. Judy made it better, she always made it better, with a soft hand on her thigh under the blankets at night, or fingers running gently through her hair. She always knew the right thing to say to Charlie and Henry, in such an effortless way that never came so naturally to Jen, and she loved her for it. She loved her for it all, despite it all, and it had never seemed so clear before, not like it did now, sitting in her hospital bed, the monitor beeping vaguely in the background.</p><p>She’d wanted to ignore it, the fire building inside of her, the one that seemed to only grow with every touch and every lingering stare, because it was so much easier to pretend that this was normal, that this was just how best friends behaved when they really loved each other. It was easier to ignore how fucked up this whole thing was – how she had invited the woman who killed her husband into the bed where he’d slept and she no longer felt guilty for it. It was so much easier to forget all the ways they had hurt each other, how Jen had lashed out with words that cut like ice and how much she hated herself for it. The scene in the garage played in her head, over and over again, mocking her, and every time she felt as though she was drowning, like one day the consequences of her actions may eventually swallow her whole. </p><p>But it all seemed to make sense, under the influence of painkillers, with a pounding in her head and an ache in her neck. Her life had always felt as though it could run away from her, as though at any time she could be consumed by it, as though her own volatility may blow up in her face, her anger and grief and resentment wrapped tightly in a bow and thrown in her face with the force of a hurricane. And here Judy was, a storm of her own, but with eyes that saw every inch of her, with hands that touched gently and with care, with a heart so big Jen swore she couldn’t understand how it fit inside a body so small, so delicate. </p><p>They had both killed a man. They had both forged chaos in the path of a life filled with hardships, with losses, and pain so acute they wore physical scars to prove it. (Another one was forming on the side of Jen’s head, and she wondered if Judy would have one to match. She thought maybe it would be poetic, in a way, this thing that almost killed them both.) They were tethered together, it seemed, and Jen was done fighting it. She was done pretending that she didn’t want Judy, every part of her. Because of course she did. Of course this was the only thing that made sense in a life filled with lies and manslaughter and guilt that tore her heart in two. </p><p>She wanted her so badly she ached with it, as though her skin had never been touched before, as though a fire was starting between her thighs and nothing could put it out. It made her dizzy, the want, even sitting in the hospital bed, drifting into semi-consciousness, and she thought about every time Judy had leaned into her embrace (on the outdoor couch with a glass of wine and the TV fading into the background, in bed when the only sound she could hear was the beat of her own heart in her ears, even, sometimes, during family film night, when Charlie and Henry seemed entirely oblivious to the arms that had wrapped themselves around Judy’s body). Sometimes, when Judy would look up at her, and she had that look on her face, the one that said <em>I’d do anything for you, </em>she would almost lean in, would wonder if Judy could feel it too, this vibration between them, the one that thrummed with a violence and a heat that left her breathless. </p><p>She had never given in, not once, but now, as her eyes began to open once more, she wondered why she hadn’t let herself fall. She felt the word bubbling in her throat before she could even register she was awake.</p><p>“Judy,” she said, her voice scratchy and pained. She tried to reach out her arm, but everything was still fuzzy, as though her hand wasn’t quite her own (she could still vaguely register she was almost floating, as though a soft glow filled the room, and she was high, high above). Through the brightness, a figure next to her began to shift into focus. She was moving towards her, soft brown curls falling into her face.</p><p>“Jen! You’re awake,” she said with tears in her eyes, a few falling down her cheeks. There was that smile, the one Jen had envisioned in her dreaming, and it made one break out on her own face.</p><p>“You’re here,” she whispered, turning her head to fall into Judy’s hand that reached up to cup her cheek softly.</p><p>“Of course I am! I wouldn’t leave you.”</p><p>There was a beat or two of silence as Judy tucked Jen’s hair behind her ear and watched her with an awestruck expression on her face. </p><p>“I should really get the nurse,” she smiled. Jen shook her head gently.</p><p>“Not yet.” She reached out, her hands finding Judy’s arm, then lacing their fingers together. </p><p>“You’ve been out a while.”</p><p>“I have? Where are the boys?” </p><p>“They’re getting food with Christopher. They’ve been waiting here for you to wake up. Believe it or not, I think Lorna is around here somewhere,” Judy said, a smile in her voice. She rubbed small patterns into Jen’s hand and carefully sat beside her on the bed.</p><p>At the mention of her mother-in-law, Jen actually managed to groan, despite the throbbing pain in her head and the strange dryness in her throat. </p><p>“She can fuck off,” she snorted, and Judy let out a genuine laugh. </p><p>“You must be feeling better,” she said with a grin, but her voice softened, and soon enough, her smile fell and a worried expression turned her lips into a frown. “I was so worried, Jen. We all were.”</p><p>“Hey, I’m okay,” she soothed, turning and resting her head on Judy’s shoulder. When she looked up at her again, she noticed Judy did have a matching scratch, somewhere near her temple. She reached up to rub the skin beneath the stitches. “You’re hurt.”</p><p>“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m fine,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, but she leaned into Jen’s touch, the tears in her eyes glistening in the obnoxious hospital lights. Jen felt the revelation hit her directly in the chest, as though the breath had been knocked out of her. The drugs still clouded her vision a little, her limbs still felt heavy and numb all at once, as though her body wasn’t quite as awake as her mind, but all of a sudden, as Judy looked at her with love and fear and a crease between her eyebrows, Jen knew she couldn’t wait a second longer. She leaned in ever so tenderly, closing her eyes, and when her lips met Judy’s, it was with a small gasp (she wasn’t sure if it was hers or Judy’s, and it didn’t seem to matter).</p><p>When she leaned back, Judy was looking at her with a content smile on her lips. She breathed out a slow sigh, all warm breath and relief.</p><p>“I wasn’t expecting that,” she whispered as she leaned her forehead against Jen’s.</p><p>“I love you,” Jen whispered back, and she was too high to think about how gross she probably looked, how vulnerable she was, sitting in a hospital bed declaring her love for her best friend (and God, did best friend seem insufficient to describe everything Judy was).</p><p>“Oh, Jen. I love you, too.” She kissed her nose softly and Jen smiled with a few tears of her own falling slowly down her cheeks. It wasn't something they had never said before; on the contrary, Jen wondered how often she had said it – and how much she had meant it, every time – but today, with a matching scar and a first kiss shared between hospital sheets, she knew things would be different. </p><p>Her life may have spun entirely out of control, in a way so unprecedented sometimes she felt she was living a dream; they may have a love she could never explain to anyone (and was there an explanation at all, for how inevitable Judy seemed? How perfectly fucked up it was that she was the one person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with?). But this time, Jen thought, as Judy wiped away her tears and called for the doctor, chaos simply seemed to feel like home.</p>
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